Lacuna
by Izzia
Summary: After receiving a frantic phone call from old acquaintance Jonno, 17yr old Robin is determined to get things straight, to uncover why he has chunks of memory missing. His search for the truth leads him straight into trouble.
1. There is someone following me

_Lacuna: Gap or missing part, esp. in a document or series. _

_Lacunar amnesia: is the loss of memory about one specific event. It is a type of amnesia that leaves a lacuna in the record of memory._

_This is my attempt in filling the gap. I hope you like it. It's probably a bit ooc, but it had to be for it to work. _

_(To anyone on my author alert: even if you have no idea what Young Dracula is, you can probably still read this. The story is from the point of view of a character who had his memory of what happened in the entire series wiped clean. This story follows him as he tries to recover his memory. So if you don't know about YD, then you'll be in the same boat as Robin. The story will be harder and more confusing for you, but it is hard and confusing for Robin, so in fact you may well get a better insight into the character if you've never watched YD.)_

1. There is Someone Following me_  
_

"Hush, child. I don't have much time," he says with a smooth very English-gentry voice. My eyes are wide and my nostrils flare as I take a step backwards. He steps forwards, right into my space, right up close. My insides shatter and I pull away into a run, back the way I came. My feet slap against the pavement and echo off the buildings.

"Come now, peasant." I have run full pelt into the same man. How did he…how? He was right there and now he's right here. No one can move that fast. No one. I lick my lips and stare up at him, the colour from my face draining into the colour of his. Muscles scream. Instincts and adrenaline pump through me like fire in my veins. But I can't move. His eyes are golden and I cannot move. There is nothing I can do, other than drink in his features, read his expressions. They are so familiar, yet so alien. My head feels cloudy. There is something in my head that is making a connection, but I can't find it. Feels like I'm swimming through blood, trying to figure it out, this connection, this flash of a lost memory.

The man's features bend and flicker and his throat makes a creaky-smooth "ah," sound before he speaks some more. "I forgot. I am not meant to call you a peasant. Now…what was it?" his eyes dart off as the cogs in his brain mesh together and whirr. "Robin!" he says, very glad that he's remembered. He's remembered right. That is my name. But I don't know his. The cogs in my own brain are whirring, searching for his name. I know it. I knew it. It's too cloudy, and I'm too freaked out.

"I see that you have changed, grown older these past few years. Something that you mortals do much faster than I. Or at least that's how it would be if that dratted girl hadn't had her way." It's like he's going to say more. But the air quivers and thunders and screams. His eyes dart and his face becomes panicked. I still can't move.

"She's found me out. The Slayer boy clearly was not a long enough distraction for her." The air screams again, distantly. The man's eyes sharpen and he leans in closer to me. "Robin, this is deadly important: Vlad is in danger. She's been playing with the stakes. Putting garlic in his coffin. Boredom gnaws at her. Nearly three years and no change. Still he sleeps. I do all she says just to keep him from harm. But she grows bored. And he does not wake. We thought when he turns 16 he would wake, yet his birthday bought no change. He ages as you do, but that is all. She wants change and she will change him. She stole my strength from the blood mirror. I am powerless. If I make a move then she will make no qualms in slaying him." This is said all very fast. The words bleed together. I lose some of them, the connecting words. It comes out like a code.

The man looks more freaked out than I feel, and I feel really, really freaked out right now. His eyes move from mine and jolt around our scene, like he hears something in the shadows. "My son helped you. Now you help him." And then I am alone. I can move. Where the hell did that guy go? I didn't even see him take a step away and he was just gone, like a puff of smoke or something. I run a trembling hand through sweaty hair and shake my head. Overload. This is all too weird. It's time to go home.

All through dinner my head is hidden under clouds. I can't get those words out of my head; the cold man with golden eyes and his coded words. I want to understand them, break them down and sort them out into the right order. My family try to engage me in conversation, but it flies right over me and they give it up.

I don't sleep well. My dreams are infested with echoes of the past. There are things in my head that are hidden under sheets. Memories that are blurred. When I was fourteen I suffered from a sudden, unexplained lacunar amnesia. My family also suffered from the same thing. But out of all of us, I lost the most time. A year of my life blipped out of my reach. I do not know where I was, what I did, who I was with. Neither does anyone else.

I was an outcast anyway, but then suddenly became even more of a freak in the eyes of my class peers. I don't know why. I don't know what I did. But since then I have been more alone than ever before. It's got to the point that I don't want anyone to come near me. I feed off solitude. There is a void within me that nothing and no one can fill. Whatever happened in that lost year stole part of me away. I didn't just lose memories, I lost something else. I just can't remember what. All I know is that something is missing, something _other _than my sense of humour.

_Chapter 2 will be put up right away. I really appreciate feedback. Please could you leave a review. I will never improve if I don't know how people respond to my writing. You can find more of my writing at my website ._

_Thank you very much. _

_(This is an edited version of chapter 1. Thanks to Karierte for the advice) _


	2. Change the record

2. Change the record.

"Robin you'll be late for school if you don't get up this instant!" my mother shouts through the door. I roll my eyes and pull myself into the waking world. Sometimes I ask myself why I chose to stay at school for A levels. I could be out there in some place other than Stokely, working for a living. Probably as a plumber, like dad and the twins. I suppose that's the reason why then. School may well be a joke, but sticking my head down blocked toilets and squeezing out gunked up pipes sounds like kind of a gross way to spend most of my life.

I shove my school books into my bag and sling it over my shoulder, opening my room door and stepping out into the colourful world of the rest of my house. There's no time for breakfast. These days we have to be carted to school in the campervan, even though it's only me and Chloe that still go to school and it's about ten minutes walk away. Screw the environment; apparently hooded teenagers have turned Stokely into a Welsh version of Sunnydale. That means we can't be trusted to walk the empty streets.

"Have a nice day!" sings my mam as Chloe and I jump down from the van to the pavement outside school. No weeds grow here. The school is a clean and tidy gem in an otherwise dark and overgrown town. Mr Renfield, the caretaker, is entirely to blame for this. It's like he was a slave in his past life or something. The guy is so subservient, so compulsively good at his caretaking duties. I remember when he first started, a small while after I lost that year of my life. He nearly got fired. He actually _put_ cobwebs everywhere. No kidding. The guy has a screw loose. It wasn't until the Headmistress explained to him that he had to keep cobwebs away that he started to become good at his job.

I ruffle my nose up as I walk past the caretaker's office towards the lockers. Despite all his best efforts, Mr Renfield has never managed to get rid of that fetid week-old sweat smell, and for that reason everyone tends to give him a wide-birth.

I open out my locker and catch a folded piece of paper that falls out and circles towards the floor. Turning my head one way down the corridor and then the other, I smooth the paper between finger and thumb. No evidence of the author. I unfold it and slowly close my locker. The writing is hurried and hard to read, spidery across the page.

_I've got no time to find you. I'm not sure where it is you eat lunch these days, or what your number is. Wait at the payphone at the roundabout near Station Road. Lunchtime today. _

That's all it says. I flick the paper over to see if there's any clue of who wrote it. There is none. The bell splits into the air and my head clicks back into reality. The corridor is busy and hot, filled with the morning rush. I open out my locker again to pick up the books I need for first period.

First and second period click by. Break time comes and I stalk over to the bench at the back of school where no one hangs out. I'm munching through a Penguin biscuit bar when I notice movement. My eyes go up and see Chloe walking out towards me. Great. That's all I need.

"Go away, Chloe," I scowl.

"I've told you, it's not healthy for you to be here, eating away from everybody. It's not good to be away from people so much."

"Blah blah. Change the record."

"I'm _serious_!"

I shake my head and shrug, taking the final bite of Penguin.

"What's eating you?"

"I'm eating a penguin. Nothing is eating me. What do you reckon penguins actually taste like, for real?" I crumple up the wrapper and chuck it at the bin. It misses by miles. Never was a good shot. Chloe makes a throaty sigh and stands up to pick up the wrapper and place it into the bin.

"Mr Renfield overworks himself enough as it is, without you going about littering the place up."

"Whatever," I shrug. Chloe stands in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest and one brow raised high.

"Come on, spill. What's on your mind?"

I grit my teeth together and let my eyes hover off. They hit the castle up on the hill. I slide my eyes back onto Chloe's and cave in.

"It feels like there is this huge thing missing in my brain," I start by saying. Chloe raises her other brow and sits beside me.

"I've often thought that there's a huge thing missing from your brain," she jokes. I tut and shake my head.

"I'm talking about the amnesia."

"I have it too, you know Robin. Maybe not as severe. But I have the same thing. You don't see me sulking around hating everybody. So what, there's some hazy gaps in one year of our lives? Move on. Deal with it."

"Go away if you're just going to insult me. I've tried moving on. It didn't work." I swallow down and dip my head. "I don't think I can move on until I get the straight."

"The straight? What does that even mean? You don't just look funny anymore. You've started to talk funny too."

"The straight. The whole story. I can't move on until these gaps have been filled." I lick my lips and look up towards my sister, reading her focused expression.

"How do you intend to fill them?" she asks.

"I'm not sure yet."

"I think it's a good idea. You are stagnating. It's time to kick your life into line." She flicks her gaze down and then back up to mine. "But keep me in the loop. Please, Robin. You're my big brother and I… I worry about you. I don't like you always being off by yourself."

"Well don't worry about me. I've gotten used to it."

"That maybe so, but please talk to me. Don't freeze me out like you have done with everyone else." My eyes slide down to the floor, my mouth is muted. The bell for third sings out and Chloe rises to her feet fluidly.

"Maybe I'll catch you at lunch," she says.

"I'll see you after school. I'm not around at lunch."

"Meeting friends?" she asks cuttingly. I pull a face but don't say anything. "Whatever. See you later," she snaps before pacing off towards the main school.

_Please leave me some feedback in the form of a review. I really appreciate it. For more of my writing visit ._

_Thank you_

_(Chapter 3 should be up and ready to read by now) _


	3. Keep up with me

3. Keep up with me.

I stand at the corner of the roundabout, near to the payphone. My hands are buried deep in my pockets, my shoulders are lazy and my jaw is clenched. I check my watch again. 1:23pm. I'm thinking about bailing. Standing here on the corner of a roundabout is not a fun way to spend lunch, by any stretch of the imagination. I puff my cheeks out and take one step away, off towards the school campus. The phone rings on my second step. I pause, looking over my shoulder to the payphone. Slowly I turn to face it and stare, balancing on the balls of my feet, on the edge of indecision. The rings peal out into the air, one after another. I think about the note and the weird man last night and what Chloe said. I am stagnating. It's time to kick my life into line. If I don't move now it'll stop ringing.

"Yeah?" I say into the phone.

"Robin?" The voice is familiar, but I can't pin it. It's not the English-gentry voice belonging to the stranger last night. This voice is younger.

"Yeah."

"There's not much time. I'm calling you in because I need your help. And I know I have no right to ask you. But I'm doing it anyway. There is no one else."

"Who is this?"

"Jonathan." I've not seen him for ages. I'd almost forgotten he exists. "Now listen hard, Robin. I figured that something was going down. Big patches of memory were missing from me, and dad too. Then he showed up dead. Drained dry of blood. He's not the only one. He's part of a growing statistic. But I needed closure. What happened? Why? Who? The police can't figure it out." My brows ruffle up as I listen to him. His words are falling over each other, the same as the guy last night. He doesn't put a single pause in. There is no beat in which I can get my oar in, so I listen to him spill out to me and try my hardest to follow it. I'm not sure I do a good job. "It's a vendetta. I don't know the full thing. But she's doing it to get revenge. At least that was how it started. It's possible that she has lost track of where it all started and she's riding the wave that she herself made. Not sure. Doesn't matter."

"I don't think I'm following," I manage to say, eventually. "Start from the top. I need some context. Details."

"No time for details. Here's the context: The Council wanted to know about Vlad; about the Grand High Master. They sniffed around the castle. Ingrid wanted the heat off her and her castle. So she fabricated war. So now her side think our side have Vlad. Our side think her side is hiding him someplace in Europe while he sleeps off whatever. Whatever happened with him at the end. It's too vague, too fuzzy and I don't remember the details. But he's still sleeping it off. Yesterday I went to the castle. All my investigations led there, so that was where I went. He's not in Europe under his people's protection. He's in the castle. But the heat is off Stokey. The heat is in Europe, on the war. So no one knows the truth. They are all too distracted."

"Calm down. Slow down."

"But she's thinking of ending it! If I hadn't been at the castle yesterday she might have killed him then, the Count too. But she smelt me and ratted me out. Said she was going to kill me. Then got this sharp look in her eye. I need your help Robin."

This sounds really heavy, really serious. "Who is 'she'? I'm guessing whoever didn't kill you, since you're talking to me and everything."

"Ingrid. Keep up with me."

"Who?" I hear a sound of annoyance come through the phone. "Sorry," I mutter, though I'm not sure why.

"Ingrid is toying with me. She let me go because she wanted to play a game, to draw it out. So she's distracted right now looking for me and not thinking about Vlad. But Robin, I think it's important that Vlad is kept safe. Maybe there is hope in Vlad. I think he was chosen for a reason." There is a pause. I am too confused to say anything. "Don't you remember any of it?"

"Any of what?"

"You don't remember Ingrid?"

"Never heard of her. Or the Vlad person. Some guy mentioned the same name yesterday. Who is this dude? I _need _the details, Jonno. Why don't you meet me? If you are running out of coins then we could meet up in school to chat this out."

"Coins are not my problem. My problem is Ingrid. I need to keep on the underneath. I need to stay out of her way. I need to skip out of town more than anything. But it's so skewed. I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I. I understand less than half of what you just said."

"Vlad is strong. He did a good job on everyone's memory. Maybe I can't use you after all. I'm sorry to have bothered you." There is a pause. My mind is whirring, spinning around and about. "But Robin, think about it some more. Push at the gaps in your head and iron them out. If anything comes back to you and you think you can help me, then drop an email my way. You know my address?"

"No." He gives it out and I lodge it into my shredded memory bank. "But Jonno; I want to know! There are huge gaps in my memory. Are you saying you can fill them?"

"No time right now. I have to go. Don't come to my place. Don't lead Ingrid anywhere near my Mum. Steer clear of my place. Contact me only via email." The phone clicks and I get an earful of dial tone. In the distance the end of lunch bell peals.

_This chapter is edited from the original that I uploaded._

_I will put up chapter 5 and 6 right away. _

_Don't forget to take a look at my website, which can be accessed from my profile page. _

_Thanks very much. _


	4. In the Loop

_I have re-rated this T. I really don't think it needs the rating M. Maybe 13 year olds won't get the slightly 'hardboiled' style, which was why I rated it M in the first place. However, there is nothing heinous in the story at all, so reading it won't scar your minds, I promise. _

_Please be patient with poor confused Robin. It's Vlad's fault he can't remember anything, after all. This chapter, and the next, Robin is playing catch-up. _

4. In the Loop.

I don't know what to make of this. Should I just ignore it until it goes away? Maybe the past is best left alone. Maybe there is a good reason I can't remember a year of my life. Jonno sounded shaky and scared and he said his Dad is dead. I know Mr Van Helsing hasn't been in school for a while, but no one said he was…dead. I shake my head, sitting on my usual bench at the far end of school. It's no good. I can't go to sixth with a head full of confusion. It would be pointless, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the lesson. I bring my legs up and wrap my arms around them, working my lip with my teeth as I roll everything through my head.

These names and words that are being thrown about put a small shiver into my spine. My thick head is trying hard to make a connection. Ingrid. Vlad. The castle. Slayer. These names and words are meaningless, disconnected. Despite this, I feel like they are linked, and it's me who is disconnected.

The day bends onwards, rushing past me. I barely hear the bell for seventh. When the registration bell goes I finally manage to coax my muscles to move. I ride out the remaining minutes of the school day, keep myself locked up tight in my head, don't let anyone at all catch my eye. Chloe stares at me unflinchingly throughout the ride home. I give her my cold shoulder, not because I want to annoy her but because Mam is in the car and I don't want her to hear the things I need to say to Chloe.

"Dinner is at seven," Mam sings as we walk into the house. Chloe smiles and thanks her. I head straight towards the stairs, as always. Chloe pushes past me as she heads to her room, deliberately pushing me, giving me a hard glare. I grab her arm and pull her into my room, manoeuvring her to my bed and sitting her down.

"What?" she snaps.

"You said you wanted to stay in the loop. So I'm using my lasso and I'm bringing you in. Unless you're pulling back that request? Because I can probably operate alone, if I have to." Her glare does not soften, she just stares. I take a look out my window and then draw my curtains closed.

"I am going to say some names and words. Tell me if they connect," I mutter, putting my back to the room and Chloe. "Ingrid."

"…Ingrid? Isn't that the name of the girl who used to live in the castle? The daughter of that haughty uppity Lord?" My eyes widen and I swoop around to face her.

"The castle? That was one of the words. I don't remember anyone having lived in that place for ages."

"I think they moved out. I'm not certain. Sometimes I see lights or hear music. People come and go from there. But I always thought that place was long abandoned and the local hoodies use it for skins parties."

"Hmm, I heard that too. So the girl who lived there was called Ingrid was she?"

"I don't even know if that's her name. What's this all about, Robin?"

I ignore that and try out the next name.

"How about Vlad?"

"Look, I don't know. If you wanted to play word games why can't we just go downstairs and play a round of scrabble."

"I prefer boggle myself."

"Boggle then. Sounds good. I'll get dressed out of my school uniform and meet you in the living room. I expect Dad and the twins will want a round when they get back from work." She gets up onto her feet and moves across to my room door. I pace across and slam it shut again, staring down at her.

"No! This is important, Chloe! Quit messing around. People are in danger."

"Danger? What kind of danger?" she gasps.

"I dunno quite yet. Something to do with all these disappearances. The large number of people found dead and drained of blood. The missing memories. And some words that I can't find any connection between. Words like Ingrid, Vlad, the castle, slay, stakes. So yeah, I want to play a word game; a word game where the outcome means more than a triple word score. So put your thinking gap on, my boffin of a sister. Find what links these words."

"Stakes? Like in a bet?"

I shrug and repeat the words as I remember them. "'She's playing with the stakes' was what he said." I'm not sure that was exactly it, but it's close and it's all I have.

"Who said? Come on, Robin. If you want my help you're going to have to fill me in a bit." She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a stern expression. I consider telling her everything, about the weird conversations. But something nags at me. I shake my head and pace across to my window, peeling back the curtain and taking another look out.

"Look, Chloe, I'm not sure yet. Feels like this could get heavy. It's already heavy. And I'm not sure what I'm stepping into, but I'm pretty sure it's nasty. I don't want to pull you down with me. So you're just going to have to ride in the sidecar and trust me to lead the way. I can't give you all the details because if you know them all then maybe it's bad news for you. I can't have my little sister in any sort of danger. I don't want to be the person who puts you into it." I lean against the wall and tilt my head back.

"That's hardly fair! If you want me in the loop you have to tell me what you know."

"You were the one who requested to be in 'the loop'. I could do with your help. You have more than half a head on you and I could use you. But I won't give you information that I don't think you need, that I think might lead into danger." I edge my eyes across to hers and wait for some kind of response. She just glares at me. "So what's your status on this? Are you going to help me operate this from the sidelines, or do you want out altogether?"

"I can't say I like it. Don't you think it's safer for me to be clued in? If you're getting yourself into danger it's likely to involve me. I don't like the sound of any of it…"

"It's the way it is. If it gets too hot and I think things are about to blow I'll give you plenty of warning. So are you in or are you out?"

She clenches her teeth and makes a small sound of irritation. "I asked that you involve me, and now you are so I have to say I'm in."

"Yeah, you kind of do."

She sighs and sits back on the bed, face hardening into concentration.

"There is something that springs to mind. I can't believe you have not made the connection between all these words. Slay, stake, castle, people drained of blood, weird Eastern European names." I'm not following and I think my ruffled forehead says that loud and clear. She rolls her eyes and points a finger towards my DVD collection. "Come _on _Robin. All you ever watch is that Buffy stuff, that Hellsing anime, Underworld, Twilight."

"I do _not _watch or read Twilight."

"I've seen you," she says with a raised chin. I narrow my eyes and shake my head. Oh how I wish she was wrong. "So what do all of these things have in common?" she asks.

I think about it for a moment, my eyes scanning my bedroom walls. "Well…vampires. But what have fictional characters got to do with this situation I am finding myself in?"

"That is something I don't know. You refuse to tell me the whole story. You asked me to connect the words. I have done. So that's that." She's got a point there.

"Alright then. Fine. One more thing: there are other people in this town who lost their memories."

"Who?"

"Mr Renfield for one. Jonno and his dad." I list them on my fingers. "Is it just me; or is that a lot of people in one small town to suffer from lacunar amnesia?" Chloe inhales and smoothes out the creases in her school trousers.

"It is somewhat strange. But coincidences can happen."

"Doesn't sit right with me. Remind me of the old rumour mill concerning Mr Renfield. How did it go?"

She doesn't answer for a while, long enough for me to think that maybe she's changed her mind and doesn't want to help me out after all. "I'm not totally sure what you mean. But there was a local story that did the rounds. People knew Mr Renfield before he started to work at school. He was homeless, or at least assumed homeless because it didn't look or smell like he took frequent baths."

"Yeah. Every town, every place in this world where there are people there is always at least one fruit-loop who hangs around not just _like _a bad smell. Some places will have a guy who wanders the street picking litter from the bins and studying it, mumbling under his rotten breath. In others it'll be a guy that pushes an old rusty bike around, has trousers several inches too short and no teeth. No matter what; every place has a local hick. Ours was Renfield."

"That's mean! Mr Renfield is not a bad, or mad, man."

"Whatever. One of the few memories I actually have of that missing year is a day out with you at Stokely Museum. I can't think why I would have wanted to hang out with my annoying little sister on the weekend, in a museum, but we definitely did go."

"Oi!" she scowls. I shrug and make a mumbled apology.

"Well anyway, Mr Renfield was there skulking about stinking the whole place out. So what I want to know is: when did he clean his act up and get a job and a house and brush his hair? He hadn't got his act together then. So why did he bother if he was happy stinking up the local attractions? At what point did he lose his memory? The same time as us?"

"When exactly did we lose ours? Can you even pin-point that kind of thing?" she asks. I think about it and saunter across my room to sit beside her on my bed.

"Yeah…I think I can. That Scout Cabaret. The one where Dad made us dress up as the 'Five a Day Family'"

"I think that's just your own head trying to forget the fact that you danced around all evening dressed as a pineapple," she laughs. I thump her in the arm and shake my head. "Ow!" she pulls a face at me and cradles her arm.

"I'm sure that was when I realised that I had no idea what I had been doing earlier that day, or the day before, or any time before that since the start of year 8. And we gave a lift to that strange dude who kept talking to his wrist. Remember him?"

She thinks back on it and hesitantly nods. "Vaguely."

"He kept asking me where he was and how he got there. We took him to the hospital in the end because he really couldn't remember anything at all, other than his name was Burt, or Kurt or something. Mam was really worried." My brain is working really hard right now, tugging at the loose threads in my memory. Something comes back to me all of a sudden. It's not something from the year I lost, but from a few weeks after I realised my memory was shot. "He showed up dead not very long after that. It was in all the papers and Mam had a terrible time of it."

"That's right. She was very upset that we hadn't taken him in. His body disappeared in the morgue and they never found the body or who snatched it. It was really weird." After that the number of deaths in Stokely took an upwards turn. That was when things started to get dark and scary around here. Bingo. I have a starting point. I press my lips together and take a look towards my digital alarm clock. 5:48pm.

"Well cheers then Chloe. I've got a lot to chew on now," I say, getting to my feet.

"Can I go?" I nod and open my door for her.

_I'll put up chapter 5 right away. If at any point people think this should be rated M, then let me know. For now I firmly believe it belongs in the T rating. _

_Thanks to those who have reviewed, I really appreciate it. _


	5. Hike up the Hill

5. Hike up the Hill.

The sky is dimming out into a muddy and silent dusk. I slip a note on my bedroom door saying that I need an early night and don't want to be disturbed, then it's the window for me. I climb down the drainpipe and jump the last few feet, landing with a heavy scuff. Hacking out some built up phlegm I compose myself, stand up straight and shove my hands deep into my coat pockets. Warm orange light spills in pools across the driveway. I glance back at the house and those gaudy curtains and the yellow paint. Then turn my shoulder to it and walk away.

Dusk is a good time to take a stroll. Maybe something might crawl out the shadows and throw a jigsaw puzzle right in my lap. That's what happened yesterday at about this time. I could do with more clues, more pieces. My footsteps click with an even beat. There is no other sound. No fog or movement in the shadows. I have a feeling that tonight the heat is off me, and on someone else. Can't say I'm not glad about that, but I'm never going to make progress if I don't sniff at some doors, make something happen.

After Chloe left my room I did some thinking about that lost year and the things about it that have managed to stay with me. I made a list of all the noteworthy events of that year. My list is short. Pretty much the only useful thing on it is Will Clarke. I don't remember the kid really, but I remember that he went missing. There was a lot of hot air about it at the time. Kids don't vanish from Stokely, not back then they didn't. He was never found. So I did a search on the internet and then the phone book for a Clarke. That was what has led my pins to this street I am now walking down. I come to a stop and look up at the house ahead of me. It's a clone of my own, minus the yellow paint and gaudy curtains. I inhale a sharp breath and clench my fists into a ball before taking a step onto their path. My knuckles rap loudly on the door. I wait a while, shifting my weight from the balls of my feet to the heels. Just as I'm about to knock again I hear the lock click back and the door creak open a crack.

"Who's there?" a quiet, scared voice drifts out.

"Hello there, sir. My name's Robin Branagh, I live a few streets away," I say in my lightest, most polite voice.

"Graham's youngest boy?"

"That's right, yes."

The door opens further and he steps aside to let me in. "Come on in then boy, it's not safe out after dark."

"Thanks," I mutter, waiting for him to shut the door and lead me wherever.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asks as he goes down the corridor and into the nearest door. It leads through to a drab looking living room. I take a pew on a green worn out sofa. "Want a tea?"

"No thanks."

"Anything at all to drink?"

"Water's good," I say. He nods and says he'll back in a moment and to sit tight. I stay here a while and then get to my feet and walk across to the mantelpiece above the fake fire. There are pictures in silver frames. Will is smiling out of them. I sigh and rove my eyes around the place, picking out the dusty ornaments, the cheap paintings hung on the walls. I find nothing interesting. Nothing sparks off inside my head, so I walk back to the sofa and sink back into it. Right about then Mr Clarke returns with a glass of water for me and a cup of something hot for him. I take the glass and thank him.

"I'm sorry to ask something so personal, but I wanted to know about Will." I watch his expressions turn white and wait while he gulps down and steadies himself, lowering himself into a green armchair.

"Okay…" he says with a voice that means it's probably not okay, but I'm here now. "What do you want to know?"

"Well firstly, did he ever show up?" I can tell right away that the answer is no. I can read it in the lines in his face.

"We still hope he'll make an appearance…"

"Can you think of any reason that he might have run away?" I ask. He shuffles a little in his seat and looks off, before turning his eyes back to me.

"Not really. He was happy. Very happy. He'd got himself a girlfriend you see and was very excited about it. The last we saw him was just before he went on a date with her. To the cinema." I ask him what the name of Will's girlfriend was. "Ingrid Count. Vlad's older sister."

I blink and part my lips. The same names keep on coming up.

"I had the impression that you were friendly with her brother, at least that seemed to be the case a while back."

I shake my head. "Not that I remember, no."

"Well that time is hazy for me. What with Will disappearing, I didn't pay all that much attention to what was going on around Stokely. I must have been mistaking you for another boy." That is perfectly possible so I don't let it bother me.

"So what happened with Ingrid?" He shuffles in his seat and puffs out his cheeks.

"At first she seemed oddly unconcerned. But later on her indifference turned around. She went completely crazy. I went up to the castle. She wouldn't let me in and she wouldn't come out to talk to me. I can't remember the things she said, but she was not being at all coherent. To be honest she was scaring me a little. So I left. I tried to talk with her father a small while later, but all he told me was that Ingrid had taken Will's disappearance rather badly and it was best that she and the family were left alone. That's the last I saw of them. I have felt compelled to stay clear of that castle ever since. I don't think they even live there anymore." I lick my lips and nod.

"Well thanks then, Mr Clarke. You've been a great help to me. I'd better get off home before it gets too late," I say as I get to my feet, placing the glass of untouched water on the coffee table.

"Why did you want to know? Have you found any clues as to where Will might have gone?" his eyes are light, holding pent-up excitement within them. It feels bad to crush his excitement.

"No. I'm sorry. It's a personal matter. I lost some of my memory a few years ago and I'm trying to dig around, find out what's what. There was a hole where Will was concerned, and now you've filled it and I am very grateful to you for it." His eyes dim once more and he sinks back deeply into the armchair. "I'll let myself out."

"Sure," he mutters, flicking his wrist in a lazy farewell gesture.

"Thanks again, Mr Clarke. See you around."

As I walk back homewards my eyes get distracted by something up on the hill. The castle is lit up like a church on Easter Sunday. Not only that, there are also colourful lights breaking out through the windows, spilling into the darkness. Flashing and switching to a beat that I can just about hear above the soft sounds of distant traffic. I stop outside my house, hands buried deep in my pockets and shoulders rounded. I flick my eyes from the yellow house to the castle and back again. My watch reads 9:14pm. I flare out my nostrils, steel myself and then hike up the hill.

_The next chapter will be up fairly soon. There's more going on in the next few chapters compared to 4 and 5. Apologies if chapter 4 & 5 were slower paced. I wanted to make this open to all to read, including people who've never watched YD, so that meant some background was needed. _

_Reviews help me get over my crippling lack of confidence. They also help me to improve. So you can tell me if you read it and didn't like it, because that will help me get better. Thank you so much you lovely people. _


	6. Twenty Four Hour Party People

6. Twenty Four Hour Party People.

There are a few people hanging out outside. There's some serious tongue action between a girl and a guy near the castle gates. I walk on past, heading towards the door. Heavy Electro spills out from within, not at all my taste in music. Too lively, too vibrant, too colourful. The same can be said of the situation indoors. I walk into the main room. It's all kitted out in neon colours, glow sticks and cheap plastic. The only thing that's missing is a UV light to make all these bright whites sing out. It's packed out in here. I keep to the sidelines, watching the throng. The place is seething with plastic-bespectacled teens all twisting and pulsating with neon colour. Feels like half the teenaged population of Stokely are sweating it out inside these walls. Most of the faces that I recognise from school are people I've not seen for ages. They've all got a lot paler and older-looking since they were last in school. I guess that's what working life does to you.

A girl wearing pink slatted-sunshades, a bright green tutu and deep red lips falls across my path, pushing into me. She's totally wasted.

"Hoooo! Hey there boy! I don't recognise you. What's with all the black? That's so old school! Dressing like a proper old fashioned vampire."

"Um…" I try and get her to stand up straight, without needing to lean on me. "I don't really dress like a vampire anymore. Haven't done for a while now," I say in my defence, having to holler loud over the volume of the music. She laughs at me with a proper cat-wail cackle that makes my ears hurt more than they did already from this crappy music.

"Good one! …You seem a little stressed out there. You need to take a chill-pill mate. Get some spliff or something." I think she reads my confused expression, "The Countess got a couple of ounces off a local junk peddler. A couple of ounces and about nine pints, if you know what I mean!" she nudges me and winks, very out of it. I place my hand on her shoulder and ask if she's okay, if she wants some water, but she just laughs at me, sways and then collapses in a heap at my feet. I look down at her, consider her words, and then step over her limp rag-doll form, heading for a door.

There's a guy leaning in a doorway with a look of boredom written plainly across his face.

"Hey," I say to him, not making eye contact, just looking out over the party. "I'm looking for a couple of people. 'Vlad' or 'Ingrid'. You seen either of them?"

I turn my eye to him and see the guy's bored expression fizzle out into a much more aggressive hard look. He pushes himself upright and steps up to me, grabbing my collar and shoving his face right up to mine. He smells like musty forgotten clothes.

"Where did you crawl from? It's The Countess to you, knob-jockey." His grip on my collar digs in against my throat and as he speaks he shakes me about.

"Alright!" I exhale, winded from all the shaking he's doing. I think that maybe my breath stinks something rotten because he puckers up his nose and loosens his grip on my collar for a moment.

"Breather!" he says with wide, excited eyes. I'm not sure what that means. What I am sure of is trouble. There's trouble and I'm in it and maybe it'll lead me someplace I want to be at. He yanks me into the next room and across the way through another door. The music is quieter in here, different, but still too lively for my tastes. The guy pushes me heavily away. So much so that I loose my footing and fall on my side in a heavy heap.

"Found a breather, Countess," I hear him say with knives in his voice box. I crawl to my feet and straighten myself up, looking across to a girl a couple of years older than me. There's something about her that I recognise, but I tend to get that feeling with any pretty girl I lay an eye on, so I'm not sure how to read it. Her dark eyes flash and almost seem to lighten to grey, or blue, for a moment. Maybe being pushed to the floor like that jolted my brain about. Maybe I'm seeing stuff all wrong. The next time I clock in the colour of her eyes they are deep black once more. I shrug my shoulder to realign my coat in its proper position and scowl up at the girl. She's sitting on a large chair, like a throne or something. There are a fair few guys in here, and a couple of girls, hanging around near to her. The ambience is sharp steel.

"Robin Branagh. Long time no smell, Breather Boy," she says to me with a cocked scornful smile. My brows flutter into a furrow. She knows my name. Maybe I do know her from someplace, after all. "I see you're still skulking around pretending to be one of us, dressed all in black and on a constant downer. I've got news for you, garlic-breath; it is no longer in fashion to wallow about in angst-ridden confusion, threatening to slash your wrists, wearing a fringe you can't see through. The discerning modern teenager prefers to get shit-faced and lost under a cloud of euphoric, neon haze. It's mildly more constructive." I don't respond because I don't know what to respond with. I keep my face a stony mask. Don't let her see how lost I am. She shifts her position and sits forwards on her throne. "You're two days early. I'm not ready for you yet. My watch is on the Slayer boy. I haven't even sent you your invitation yet. It's quite rude of you to burst in here unexpected like this. So what brings you here all of a sudden, nearly three years after your last visit and nearly three days before your scheduled final visit? Having flashbacks are we? Your memory has come back has it?"

I blink and hesitate before deciding to go along with this, to play it like I know what the hell is going on.

"Where's Vlad?" I demand. She laughs at the tough-guy tone I put into my question, her laughter trickling on the air.

"He's in the crypt, dear Robin. Since your memory has been restored I'm sure you'll remember exactly where that is, won't you?" Maybe she's playing with me. It makes no odds. I'll play along and see where this ride takes me. "Get your best clogs on though, breather. This place is teaming with hungry little vampires. If they catch a whiff of your virgin blood I'm not sure they'll fight the urge for a swift-one. I've already put out a warning that The Branaghs are a no-snack stop. But you're getting awfully close now and I wouldn't blame any of them if they saw red and let the bloodlust force them to loose rationality."

I pull a face at her and mutter "Very funny." I wish people would quit referring to that phase in my childhood in which I felt compelled to go around wearing vampire capes and hanging upside down on a custom-built hanger. No kidding. I really did do that, and yes I am ashamed. In my defence, I was twelve years old. Everyone had something weird going on in their lives when they were that age. Anyone who says different is a liar.

With not a clue about where I'm headed I make my way through the castle, glad to be by my lonesome once more. With a steady pace I move in the opposite direction to the music, my footsteps getting crisper as the music gets further away. I have no idea where I'm going and all these corridors look alike. It wouldn't surprise me if I have been going round and round in circles. Some way down a corridor my ears pick up a small sound above the distant throb coming from the party room. It sounds like a voice. I pause and listen for a while until the voice comes again.

"Help," it whispers. I look back down the corridor, then along it the other way. There's no one here. Just one of those suit of armour guys. "Help me. I'm stuck." My attention is on the suit of armour, so that might be why it seems to be from there that the voice is coming from. I squint, wait a moment more, and then approach it.

"Hello?" I ask.

"In here," says the suit. I lift the visor and see two pretty blue eyes staring back at me. I really wasn't expecting this. It shakes me up, what with being on edge already. I leap back away from the suit with a little yelp. "I'm really hungry. I've been trapped in here nearly a week now. I'm too weak to move the metal," she says.

"A week?! Hells bells."

"Can you help me out of here?"  
"Sure," I mutter, already lifting her helmet off. "How did you get in here in the first place?" I ask with a smirk as I tackle the torso piece. It is really, really heavy. As I remove each piece to reveal the prisoner I can see how she wasn't able to get herself out of it. She's stick thin and fairly petite. I'm struggling with the weight of the suit myself, and I'm not trapped inside, or a smallish girl.

"The others put me in here," she winces as she stretches her freed limbs out. I crouch down to remove the shin plates.

"Which others?"

"That lot upstairs." Her blue eyes flick upwards and I follow them.

"The party guests?"

"Twenty four hour party people. They're not guests precisely, since they are here all the time."

After managing to free her entirely I stand up straight and let my eyes study the prize inside. The suit is scattered around our feet, broken into its many parts, something like a discarded banana skin. The contrast between the hard, shiny outer layer and this small soft girl inside is almost artistic. She's wearing hardly anything at all. I find it hard to know where to put my eyes. Pinching my lips together and grabbing the lapels of my jacket I raise my brows and rock my weight back and forth.

"I think that's a pretty sick thing to do. They put you in there on _purpose_?"

She shrugs, indifferent to what must have been fairly traumatic. I drink in her features like she's a strawberry milkshake. There is something very elfin about her, very small but very strong. "They've done a lot worse to me."

"What? _Why_? Why trap someone in a suit of armour for a week?!"

"They think it's funny. Plus they don't like me because I'm a half-breed…" as soon as she says this her eyes widen and she slinks away from me. "Hang on… how old are you?" It's a pretty weird question to ask in the middle of a pretty weird conversation.

"Recently turned seventeen." I'm not sure my answer was the right one. She takes another back step, suddenly very cautious and scared looking, her eyes becoming big and dark. "Quit looking at me in that way. I'm not going do anything to you."

"Wh…who are you? What are you doing here? Are you one of the Count's friends? Did Ingrid send you?" her voice shakes. My head shakes.

"I sent myself. Looking for the crypt. Do you know where it is?"

"A little early in the night for a snooze. You've got me all curious. Dressed in black like the olds. The niceties. The post-16 status. It doesn't fit." She narrows her gaze and dips her chin, those bony limbs tense like a wound-on wind-up toy.

I blink and look down the corridor. "I'm searching for Vlad. I've been told that he's in the crypt. Was I told right?" I see her relax a little. She shrugs and pouts her lips, pressing her two index fingers together.

"Yeah... That's where he is," she smiles, aura switching totally, turning light and easy. "Well maybe I'll tag along, if you promise not to be nasty to me."

"Cross my heart."

"And hope to what?" she laughs. "Un-die? Ha."

I pull a face and give a weak smile, hiding my confusion under it. "Shall we?" I gesture that she should lead the way. But she doesn't move.

"I'm really hungry. Might be close to fainting. I've not eaten anything for a week. The crypt is some steps away and I'm not sure I'll make it without blanking out."

"Can I get you something to eat? The party didn't look much like a dinner-do, but maybe there's a buffet table up there someplace," I suggest.

"You're so weird! I'm a half-breed. I don't eat what they eat. Just give me your legs and I'll be fine."

"My…legs?" I ask after a beat.

"A piggy-back ride, dumb-ass." I consider it a moment and think that there's no reason why not. She looks light enough. So I offer her up my back and she hazily climbs on. She's crazily light and she smells of old coins. After she tells me which way to head I ask for her name.

"Lucinda. You?"

"Robin."

_I am in the process of drawing a picture of the New Rave vampires. Let's see if I have time to finish it…_

_Thanks to drygionus I took the liberty of asking Craig Roberts to be my facebook friend. The crazy kid accepted me (why?!). The result of this is a few more reference pictures to help me form a clear image of 17year old Robin in my head. Previously all I could envision was 14year old Robin crossed with Joseph Gordon Levitt. Not great. _

_Please review. Thanks muchly. _


	7. Put a lid on that coffin

7. Put a lid on that coffin.

"Robin, you make me very curious. There's something very off about you."

"Oh really? Well I'm sorry about that," I mutter. We hit a t-junction and she tells me to pull left.

"What are you going to see Vladdy for? You're not going to hurt him are you?"

"I'm not sure what I'm seeing him for yet. And no, I don't intend to hurt anybody. You know him?" I ask, thinking that maybe this girl can illuminate a few lost places within my head.

"Not very well. We're very distantly related, so I knew him from family junk. But since a long time before he even KOed I've not seen him, until recently. I like to go down to the crypt and gaze at him. He's well fit. Shame about the coma thing. Can't date a guy who's in a coma… or distantly related either, not without being a bit scummy."

"Right… So this Vlad guy is in a coma." Makes sense from what that spooky man said yesterday. "How long has he been under?"

"Close to three years," she says, and then I see her stick-like arm snake out ahead as she points to a doorway a little down the corridor. "Go through that room there." I do as she says and come across two guys playing a thumb-war together by candlelight. I blink, seeing that one of them is the pale long-haired man from yesterday who jump-started this investigation of mine. The other should be dead. He's the spitting image of the weird guy who talked to his wrist, the guy who had a memory blank about everything other than his name. I take a step backwards, forgetting about the girl on my back and loosing grip on her. She slips off and lands with a thump on the floor behind me.

"Robin! You came. How very efficient," says the long-haired man while I make a silent apology to Lucinda and help her up.

"It's the pineapple boy," says the Kurt clone. I turn back to face them, my brows ruffled and my fists clenched. This changes things. Kurt hadn't factored into any of my theories about what went on during that lost year. I figured he was an unrelated event. People don't show up dead, then go missing and show up alive years later. That's too weird. It doesn't fit. I can't even nearly slot it into place. My head is reeling so hard trying to shift everything to fit in this new piece of the puzzle, I don't really hear the next few exchanges.

"Eughh, what are you doing traipsing around with the half-breed?" I don't reply. "Vlad is through there. But you've picked a rather pointless time to come along, Branagh. You always struck me as being a simple boy. Best to come when Ingrid is asleep. But you're here now…" His eyes snap to the shadows.

"Talking with the dinner guests is prohibited," drifts in Ingrid's voice. Everyone seems to tense up, frozen and coiled. My eyes flick across to where the voice came from. She steps into the light, a cocked smile curving against her cheekbone. "Perhaps I should take a souvenir from Vlad as punishment for your disobedience," she says, crossing her arms and coming to a stop in the centre of the room. "A finger perhaps?"

"That will not be necessary, Countess," replies the long-haired man. He says it submissively, but I can see through this meek sheen. I can see the meekness for what it really is; a thin coating over a pool of powerful anger. Ingrid can probably see it too, but to press it would break the sheen and unlock something she probably couldn't hack. Feels like everyone's on eggshells. There's a veneer which is so very close to cracking and everyone in this room is doing all they can to keep it in-tact. I let a hard smile spill onto my lips and step forwards with every intention of smashing the veneer to pieces. Ingrid's eyes snap towards mine and my lungs empty of air. I can't breathe. I drop like a stone to the floor, catching myself on all fours, struggling to tell my lungs to fill. My ears swim with her laughter. It's like I'm underwater. I hear the sounds through half-deaf ears.

"No good, breather. Stay down and keep down."

"He's a breather?!" squeals Lucinda with a voice full of disgust. Ingrid's eyes flash over me to Lucinda. I'm trying so hard to breathe that when my lungs finally respond I take in breath way too harshly and cough on it.

"Half-breed. Where did you crawl from? We haven't seen hide nor hair of you for some time."

"You put me in a suit of armour and I couldn't get out. And euggh, that breather helped me." I feel a foot nudge hard into my side. I look up to Lucinda and read her expression. It looks like she's just swallowed a maggot.

"Oh yes. I remember now. That's a good one. I'll keep it in mind for next time," grins Ingrid. Her dark eyes float from Lucinda, to me, back to Lucinda again. Licking my lips, I get to my feet. I've barely straightened up when I feel my legs give way under me and for the third time this evening I've unwontedly slammed into the floor. Something's going on. I know it's getting on a bit time-wise, and sleep has not been my friend recently, but I'm a fairly rational kind of a guy. Other than loosing a chunk of memory I've never had anything happen to me that I cannot explain logically. Sure, I have an overactive imagination, but I know the difference between reality and fiction. I think I'm starting to loose a grip on myself right now. "I said STAY DOWN, breather!" Ingrid yells at me, so angry that it's almost like her eyes flash red. I glare at her and sit up, pressing a gentle hand to my bruised rib-cage, not gently enough. "Yes, Mirror-Shine, this loser here is a breather. Got a problem with that?" scoffs Ingrid to Lucinda.

"I thought there was something off about him. I should have clocked it. He's warm," she wrinkles her nose up and shakes her head, arms crossing over her chest.

"Funny that you should be so disgusted," Ingrid cocks her head and takes a step towards Lucinda. "Since you're a half-breather yourself. No good as a vampire. No good as dinner. Very good as a plaything."

I roll my eyes and get back to my feet, sticking a pointed finger towards Ingrid and painting a tough look on my face. "Right, that's IT! I've had it with the constant jip about vampires!" I yell. "I haven't dressed as a vampire in years. And so what if I still watch the occasional episode of Buffy?! Maybe, _just maybe_ I watch it because Sarah Michelle Geller is fit-as, yeah?" There's a placid pause before the air ripples with Ingrid's laughter. I clench down on my jaw and pull a face. "What the hell am I even doing here? I'm wasting my time on_ this_?" I say out loud.

"I thought as much, Branagh. You haven't got your memory back. I knew you were bluffing me. The Slayer boy did a better job at overpowering Vlad's little piece of wizardry. But I guess we can expect that. None of the Van Helsings have a head on them, but they've all got more of a head than you."

My skull feels like a balloon, my brow is furrowed and eyes are hard. I sigh and shake my head. "I didn't come here to get insulted by a bunch of reefer-sucking thags," I say, turning my back to them and starting to head off the way I came.

"What did you come here for then, garlic-muncher?" Ingrid yells at me. I pause and look loosely over my shoulder. Time to crack that veneer.

"To dig around, to unearth certain things that should not have been buried." I turn to face forwards. "I want to know what happened with Will Clarke. Where did he disappear to?" the room goes cold. I mean really, really cold. Her eyes flicker into light grey and a wind scatters everything about, swirling at my hair and snuffing the candles into darkness. There's some sound of scuffing shoes, of panic, of retreating footsteps, and then a click of fingers. The candles puff into being all at once, like someone flicked a switch. I rove my eyes around the room. Ingrid's eyes are light. Kurt has vanished. The long-haired guy is making a coded gesture to me that I think might mean I shouldn't have mentioned Will. The veneer is cracked. I smile.

"So spill. Will Clarke was last seen with you. Where was it that he flopped to?" Ingrid's face twitches and she hovers towards me, grabbing my collar and shoving her face up to mine.

"He's dead, Branagh. There's nothing I can do about that. Three years of searching for a spell, a way to bring him back. Three years of failure. Of getting my hopes up only for them to be crushed into dust," she says through clenched teeth, her grip on my collar pushing so strongly on my throat that I can barely breathe. I grab her hand in an attempt to free up my windpipe, but it only makes her push harder. "Face the facts. It's never going to happen. It's time to end the search, put a lid on that coffin." The world swims in front of my eyes as her grips gets tighter and tighter. "But not before I put the lid on your coffin, and every one of those interfering breathers that Vlad was so keen to protect." Her voice seems soft and the room becomes white as my lungs shiver for air. My throat roars under her grip. I swear there's a sparkle of tears in her eyes. But it could be a sparkle of tears in mine. I can't tell what's what anymore. The world is paling out. "He didn't protect Will. But he protected dinner ingredients. Makes me sick!"

"Ingrid, you are killing him. Is this really what you want? I thought you wanted to take the Slayer next and save the Branaghs for last?" I think this comes from the long-haired man. It sounds richly smooth and English. My eyes flicker black and white. She drops me, scatters me on the flagstone floor. I stare up at the ceiling above, taking great gasps in. Talk washes in a haze above me.

"Where's Kurt?"

"It seems that he has done a runner, dear daughter. Can't say I blame him. Every time that boy's name is mentioned Kurt gets on the wrong side of your fangs."

"Aggggh!" screams Ingrid. "The half-breed will have to do in his place!"

There is a yelp that comes from Lucinda, followed by the pattering of feet. I blink and regain my vision, even if it is a little shaky in places.

"I love it when they run!" a snide smile ripples onto Ingrid's lips and she steps over me towards the door I came through earlier.

Through blotchy eyes I see the long-haired guy peer down at me. "Are you dead?"

"Not quite," I croak. He gives me a hand and I shakily climb to my feet, swaying a little.

"Hmmm…. You are looking as pale as I. This isn't good at all. Are you able to take Vladdy to safety?"

"I'm bailing. This is all too weird. I need some serious head-down time. Which way's the exit?" I swallow down on sandpaper, warm hand capping sore windpipe.

"Yes," he coos, looking very regal, "perhaps it is better that you come back at a more convenient time. If not daytime tomorrow, then come early evening. Ingrid plans to be out hunting then. The castle should be relatively psycho-free." I'm too tired. I just want to get home. I shake my head and pace off, retracing my steps up to the party room and out into the cold grey night.

_I'll put the next chapter up sometime next week. Please could you review. _


	8. Invitation

8. Invitation

I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow and I don't wake up again until the morning has well and truly broken. I hear my name called through a thick cold forest. Dark creatures with golden eyes stalk in the shadows.

"Robin." I am safe as long as I stay in this clearing and its sun pool. Leaves scatter and fall around me, some slapping my face.

"Robin!" I wake with a jolt. It wasn't leaves slapping my face, it was Chloe. My forehead is lined in a thin film of sweat and my hair sticks to it. "Welcome to the land of the living!" she says. I'm rattled and out of it, surprised to find myself in my bed. "You look terrible."

"Yeah, thanks," I croak. My throat is sore and my ribs are tender.

"Some dream you were having there. It took me five minutes to pull you out of it. We're late. Are you coming to school or what?" she asks, stepping away from my bed and lifting her school bag up from the floor. I shake my head and sit up a little, running my hand through sweaty hair.

"I'm staying home sick; at least for the A.M. I hope to be in by fifth. I'll meet you at lunch. If any teachers come sniffing can you cover for me?"

"You certainly look sick, Robin. It wouldn't be covering, since you have every reason to stay home. Get some sleep, drink some water, maybe call the doctor. I'll see you later." The door closes behind her and I'm left to myself. I peer around my room, letting my head readjust itself. There's a knock at my door followed immediately by it opening. My Mam comes in and sits herself on the edge of my bed, a look of deep concern written on her features. She feels for my temperature, cool hand pressing against hot sweaty forehead. I think she will always smell of wool and milk to me.

"Chloe said you're not feeling well. My poor boy." Gently I push her hand away.

"I'm fine. Just a little worn down. I'll catch a few more hours kip and feel the world better for it," I mutter. She is hesitant to leave, concerned and motherly.

"I'll call the doctor when I get back from dropping Chole off."

"Not necessary. Go on, you know how Chloe hates to be late." She nods and plants a small kiss on my forehead before leaving. I stay here on pause until I hear the front door close, the campervan engine roar into life and roll out the drive. As soon as silence descends over the house I push the covers off me and go over to my desk. I start up my laptop, go online and log into my email.

The email I write Jonno is short, considering the weir of stuff sluicing through my brain. I relay that I went up to the castle, met Ingrid, and the rest. Writing this all down has made me realise that though I feel that I've jumped a long way forwards since the phone call with Jonno, I am actually only a couple of baby steps ahead of where I was. I still don't get any of it. Frustrated with myself, I decide to honour my words to my mam and catch a couple more hours kip.

It's midday by the time I get up. I check my email, but there's no reply from Jonno yet. So I surf around, looking up certain keywords. I take a long look at the wikipedia page about vampires. I feel like such a numpty doing it. But it's a word that was thrown about an awful lot yesterday. And I know it's probably all at my expense. Some big joke and I'm the punch line. So what if I'm one big joke to everybody. It's my head, my life, my deal. I don't care who's laughing at me, as long as I get the straight.

I'm no further ahead so I get dressed and pack up my school bag. Mam is at the breakfast table doing the crossword when I come down.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asks as I root around in the cupboards for something to eat.

"Muchly. I'm heading into school in a few," I say through a bite into a welsh cake.

"I'll give you a ride."

"I'll be fine walking. The fresh air will do me good," I insist, heading towards the front door.

"It's not safe to wander around by yourself, Robin."

"Mam, I'm seventeen. I can look after my own. See you later."

It's lunch, so I cross the campus towards my usual bench. Chloe's there, waiting for me. I sit beside her and look out across the playing fields.

"Where were you last night?" she asks. I turn to face her and then back out at the playing fields again.

"Will Clarke's place. Then the castle. Did you rat on me?"

"No I didn't tell anyone that you weren't in your room. But I was worried about where you'd flown to." I choose not to respond to that. So she digs around some more. "Did you find anything there, at the castle?"

"Plenty."

"Who's Will Clarke?" she asks when it's clear I'm not throwing her a line.

"If you don't know who Will Clarke is then I doubt you can help me much," I say. "This whole deal seems to be hanging from him. You don't remember Will?" She shakes her head. "Never mind. Apparently he's dead and has been that way for three years. But then again, it seems that it doesn't matter how dead people are these days, they might well show up again." I get to my feet as the end of lunch bell sings. "Catch you later," I say and stride towards school.

I sit through sixth, totally distracted. There's no point in going to seventh. I won't listen to a word. So I skip it and head to the library. It's quiet in here, the way I like it. I head to the computer terminals and log on. My inbox is still empty. Jonathon is a techie kind of a kid, the kind of guy who's got all the latest gadgets, who is constantly jacked into the web. I don't have a facebook profile, my friend list would be too embarrassing. But if I did I'll bet I'd see Jonno updating his status via his mobile, twitter, whatever. It sits uneasily with me, his lack of reply. I lean back in my chair and consider what to do about this. There's not much I can do, other than try to figure stuff out on my own. I log out and make my way through the stacks towards the non-fiction section, plugging my ears with black earphones and piping KoRn out of my mp3 player into my ears. My fingers trace the spines, flicking past Greek Mythology, Ragnorok and folk lore. I stop on a section at the bottom shelf and pull out a couple of volumes, _Vampires and Vampirism_, _Vampires: The World of the Undead_. With a small pile loaded up in my arms I take a desk and start to flick through them. They are familiar to me. I poured through these same pages a few years ago, wild with excitement. I wouldn't call it excitement that's pumping through me right now. Try impatience, frustration, embarrassment. The bell for registration shouts out and I slam the book covers closed, leaving them on the table for the librarian to put back. This has been a waste of time. My feet take me to my locker, pushing against the main flow of lesson changeover.

The locker door is warped and partially open. I study the damage, smoothing my fingers over the contours of the dent. Most of the passing students have made their way to registration, so the corridor is empty. I open the door and see a postcard leaning up against my books. I take it out and study the image. It's a full moon with a bat silhouette. I sigh and flip the card over. There is a message written in gothic style calligraphy and it reads: _Robin Branagh, you are cordially invited to a dinner party reunion at the castle this Friday evening at 7pm sharp. Black Tie. Running shoes recommended. Countess D._

Soundlessly I mouth 'running shoes?' and then flip the card over to take another look at the image. The bell for end of school will ring any moment, and my registration room is a few minutes walk from here. I slip the postcard into a page of a book and shove the book into my bag before banging my dented locker loosely closed.

The bell goes as I descend down the steps at the front of school. Mam's already waiting, so I climb into the van and slouch into the backseat.

"Did you have an okay day? Didn't feel too sick?" she asks.

"It was fine," I mutter dismissively, staring out the window. Chloe clicks the front passenger door open and climbs in.

"Hello dear. Good day at school? Ooh, what's that you have there?" Mam asks her, taking a piece of paper or card from her hand and studying it. "An invitation to the castle. I got one of those in the post today as well! Isn't that lovely? The Count family must be back from their long travels," Mam grins widely, all warm and happy. I lurch forward in my seat and snatch the card from Mam as she hands it back to Chloe.

"No one's going to that party," I say, ripping the card into two.

"Robin!" shouts Mam.

"I'm serious! Them lot at the castle are freaks."

Angrily Mam puts the campervan into gear and pulls away from school. Her eyes flash at me via the rearview mirror. "That is no way to talk about your neighbours, Robin Branagh." I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw, ripping the card into four.

_Thanks for reading. And many thanks to my reviewers! _

_I think I'll wait until Thursday until I put chapter 9 up. I might change my mind and put it up before then. I can't decide._

_Also, Craig Roberts fans might be interested to read the book Submarine by Joe Dunthorne. _

_Here's a tagline I wrote that drygionus agrees gets to the crux of the matter: _

_'Craig Roberts fangirls will go mental for it, since Oliver spends a certain proportion of the book putting his dick in places it shouldn't be for a kid under the age of 16.'_

_Submarine is getting turned into a film. Craig has been cast as Oliver Tate. _

_I wrote a review of the book which can be read if you follow a bunch of links from my profile page, to my blog, to the review._


	9. Sleeping Beauty

9. Sleeping Beauty.

It's half seven and we've just eaten our dinner. Five invitations lean against the wall on the breakfast bar, each one the same as mine but with the name of my mother, father, two brothers, and sister. Chloe's has been sellotaped back together. My own invitation is still nestled in the pages of my Art History textbook. The topic of the dinner party has been raised and I have shot it down.

"No one's going to the castle. End of."

"Just because you didn't get an invitation," mocks Ian. I grab my school bag that I discarded under the breakfast bar earlier, open it up and pull my invitation from the book. I rip it up and throw it at Ian before sliding myself to my feet and traipsing towards the stairs.

I pause and look over my shoulder to them, "I'm still feeling dodgy, so I'm hitting the sack early. Good night." My feet thump upstairs and I slam my bedroom door behind me. I lean against it, eyes closed as I listen to the soft sound of laughter drift up from the kitchen. My hand slinks into my coat pocket and closes around a bulb of garlic rustled from the veg box earlier. I wish I had more, but there's not much call for garlic in a kitchen that favours traditional Welsh recipes over continental. I lick my lips and sling myself to my knees, pulling out a dusty forgotten box from under my bed. It's full of old junk; holiday souvenirs and unwanted birthday presents from distant relatives. About half way down I find what I'm searching for. Three giant novelty pencils bought on various seaside holiday trips. I survey the tips and wonder if they'd manage to pierce through a chest plate ok. Somehow I'm doubting it, but it's the best I have without traipsing around Stokely woods after nightfall. They're too large to fit in my coat pockets, so I snap them in half and add them to the garlic. I don't think I'll be needing them. I think I'm just a bit crazy now. But if it means my mind is appeased enough to get over whatever it is that's making me want to steer clear of that castle, then it's fine by me.

Just as I'm climbing onto my windowsill I hear my door handle turn. I press my lip with my teeth and jump back to ground as Chloe walks in. Her brows shoot up and her hands go to her hips.

"Where do you think you're going?!" she asks like she's my mother.

I snap back my reply. "The castle."

"I thought you said they were all freaks up there, that no one's going to the castle, end of."

"Yeah I said that."

"So why are you going?"

I flare out my nostrils, sigh out my lungs and shake my head. "I don't have time for this, Chloe. I'm going to the castle and I'm pulling whatever this is out into the open."

"I don't think you should go alone. I think I should come with you."

I shake my head. "Not happening. Things got heavy last night and there's no reason why it'll be any different tonight. It's not safe."

"So stay."

"I've got to get the straight, Chloe. After this I can move on with things and stop mulling over whatever it was that went down when we lost our memories. I'm close to cracking it. So I have to do this. I'm late and you're making me later." I climb back onto the windowsill and shoot her a heavy look. "Cover for me. Keep the others away from my room. I'll debrief you tomorrow."

When I get down to the driveway I look up at my window and see Chloe with knives in her eyes, staring down at me. Turning my back to her and the house I walk up the hill with a fast pace, keen to catch up on lost time. The long-haired guy said early evening was best. I check my watch. 7.58pm. Cutting it fine.

The castle is quieter than yesterday. The place feels a lot different without the bright white light illuminating the exterior and the flashing disco affects pouring from the windows. I take a moment's pause to survey the situation. It's quiet. Too quiet. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

It smells like it might rain. My heels crunch on the gravel as I approach the heavy front door and push against it. They should really oil the hinges on this thing. It creaks loudly. I dart into the castle and hover in the shadows. It's all black and orange in here. Tangerine spills in from Stokely streetlights drifting through a window. Ticks clicking out of a clock shrouded under the blackness sound like drips falling into a puddle. I stand and wait, then press onwards. My eyes adjust to the dark quickly and I can make out the shapes of doorways I went through yesterday. Following the pattern of yesterday's feet, I lead myself down the same corridors. These are lit with flame torches. I keep an ear out for sounds other than mine and an eye out for movement. There is none. It's a free passage all the way to the room we stopped in yesterday. I stand at the door to what I believe is the crypt. Candle light flickers shadow theatricals on the stone wall. Breath drifts from me slowly and steadily. I am the only thing alive in this place. I step down into the room.

There are four or so coffins in a line, all open. One is occupied. With hesitant steps I make my way over to it, palms sweaty and pulse rocketing. He's a kid about my age and he looks dead. My warm fingers drift softly over his marble cold skin. No pulse. There's a flutter of recognition. I've seen him before. Vlad. The shy loner kid who was in some of my classes a few years ago. I don't remember having ever spoken to him. But I definitely do recognise him. This is more than a coma he's in. I clap my hands above his face, to see if he stirs at all. I know this is really dumb. The kid's dead. I don't know how long he's been this way. There's not a sign of decomposition. Not a hint of rotting flesh. I stand over the coffin and stare down. It makes me feel sad in a way to see someone my age dead. All that life unlived. Makes the reality of things come into clear perspective. Some day I'll be dead in the ground, as cold and pale as this kid right here. My veins feel hot. I am vibrant. I am alive. What have I been doing these past three years? Wallowing around half-dead, trapped in a fishbowl staring out at a world I couldn't understand. It doesn't matter that I don't understand it. I'm in it, but I won't be for long.

Coming here was a mistake. I turn my back to the coffin, my intention to go home and sleep, wake up a new person. My lips part as I see Ingrid standing in the doorway, a cocked smile slapped on her face. A stone slides into the pit of my stomach. I slip a hand into my pocket, fist clasping around the garlic bulb.

"I told you not to come back until you were invited, breather boy," she snaps through clenched teeth. She steps into the room and I step back, hitting against Vlad's coffin. "What are you doing in here?"

"Leaving," I say, side-stepping the coffin and backing further into the room. There's another door at the far end.

"So soon? But you haven't done your Prince Charming act yet."

I don't follow, and she sees that I don't so she clarifies. "Isn't that what you came for? To kiss Sleeping Beauty back into the land of the living."

"There's no amount of kissing that's going to bring that guy back," I mutter. "And I don't kiss guys," I add, feet heading slowly backwards towards the door. Ingrid laughs shallowly and floats further into the room towards me, chin raised and manner haughty. I take my hand and the garlic slowly out of my pocket.

"You don't kiss anybody. I can smell the virginity in your blood. Delicious! Post-16 virgins are a real treat. The very finest. It took all of my self-control not to drain you yesterday. I don't think I can resist it any longer." Her eyes flash golden and my stomach falls outside of itself. My grip on the garlic goes soft and it hits the floor with a dull distant thud. The world slips away and I'm left only with her eyes. She drifts closer to me. I part my lips and surrender to it all, turning to liquid. She runs her hand down my cheek, moving my head to the side so she can more easily put her teeth to my neck. I let her. Blood screams through my veins like fire. Electricity bursts all around me, tingling every cell in my body. It feels so good. So damn good. My entire being is aching for it, lusting for those teeth to rip through me and pull out every last drop of blood. I want it so badly, but it does not come.

I hear a thud, a lot like when my garlic bulb hit the floor. Then Ingrid screams out, smoke cascading from her. She lets go of my eyes and the room comes crashing back into focus. I almost fall to my knees, the release is so sudden.

"Run!" I hear Chloe's voice echo around the room. My eyes flash across to see my little sister with another bulb of garlic that she's waving out in front of her as a shield against Ingrid.

"Chloe!" I shout. Ingrid has stopped smoking, at least literally. She shivers with rage, turning the whole room icy with her temper.

"Who dares attack the Princess of Darkness in such a crude manner!?" I break into a run but don't get anywhere before Ingrid grabs me and throws me across the crypt. I land with a crack, half in a vacant coffin.

"Robin!" Chloe screams. I push myself up and look across. Chloe is backing away from Ingrid, one small step at a time, her eyes locked onto Ingrid's.

"Don't look in her eyes!" I shout. But it's too late. Chloe drops the garlic, mesmerised and blank-faced. I push my lips together and get to my feet as Ingrid bends over Chloe, moving her blonde hair to the side. I'm half way to reaching them when Ingrid's two sharp teeth sink into my sister's neck. My mouth fills with saliva and my stomach twists. I take a novelty pencil from my coat pocket, eye focused sharply on the place in her back that I should drive it in order to get the heart. Putting everything I have into it, I plunge the pencil point home. There's a loud crack followed by an animal growl. The pencil has snapped uselessly against her back, not even breaking the fabric of her cloak let alone skin.

"You!" she screeches at me, Chloe's blood staining red on her chin. Panic lifts my chest up and down. Chloe is still out of it, mesmerised and lost with a euphoric smile on her face.

"Chloe! Snap out of it!" I holler, dodging an arm-sweep from Ingrid.

"Patience, Robin. I'm saving the best 'til last. You're next in line. Until then wait patiently like a good boy." I feel myself being lifted up like a rag doll. Everything happens too fast for my brain to process. She shoves me into the nearest coffin and slams the lid closed. When I try to get out I find that it's locked tight. I slam my fist into the wood, screaming at it. Ingrid's laughter comes through, dampened with the thickness of my coffin walls.

"CHLOE!" I yell, punching the wood over and over, writhing in this tiny space, scratching at the walls. "Chloe! Please. Don't hurt her!" ragged breaths tear out of my lungs. There's such panic, such heat and rage inside me, it feels like I can do anything. I can break this cage. My knuckles split and bleed. This is too much. I am screaming her name over and over, kicking, punching, scratching, crying and spitting. Futile. Useless. Used up. I come outside of myself. I am screaming my sister's name, but I am no longer a part of myself. I pant, relaxing and staring through the darkness. My major organs have turned to Styrofoam. I've screeched out all of my oxygen. The space is hot and stale.

_Sorry about the cliffhanger. It's something us Young Dracula fans are used to by now. The next chapter should be up by Tuesday, maybe before if I can upload the stuff from the place I am going to over the weekend. I like to get reviews. They make me happy. Please review, thanks. _


	10. Stupid Little Games

10. Stupid Little Games.

Light suddenly spills in, almost blinding me. Cold air washes over me like a waterfall. My eyes are hot and wet. No idea what's what, but so wound up, so coiled and frenzied, I spring from my cage. Chloe is sprawled on the ground, limp with a lot of blood coming from two punctures in her neck.

"Robin!" gasps my rescuer, Vlad. No time to process things. I gather Chloe up into my arms and press my hand against her wounds. "Have you got a phone? A mobile?" asks Vlad in a weak sort of panic. I nod.

"In my right pocket," I say, unable to prise it out for myself since my hands are full. Vlad makes no pause in delving his hand in and fishing my phone out. He dials three numbers.

"Ambulance. My friend's bleeding really badly. From her neck." Then he gives out our location. It is while he is doing this that I notice Ingrid crouched in the corner watching our scene with passive-aggressive snake eyes, like a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"We have to get out of here!" I say, getting to my feet and half-running out of the crypt. I hear Vlad following only because he is answering whatever questions are coming to him from the phone. His feet don't slap with heavy echoes against the flagstones, not like mine are. He's too agile, too light, too dead for those kind of sounds. We burst out of the corridors and up to the main chamber, getting only as far as half way across the room before the inky shadows peel off and regroup in the form of twenty or so vampires. I recognise faces from the party yesterday. It's the same crowd, dressed in the same bright neon colours and rave gear. They circle us, teeth brandished and eyes gold. I hug Chloe protectively close to me, painfully aware of the hot wet blood spilling from her neck and down my hand.

"They can smell Chloe's blood!" I say in a rush, hoping Vlad has some trick up his sleeve.

"I think it's actually your blood they want, Robin. You've cut your knuckles and you're bleeding out all this really sweet, salivating blood, even tastier than Chloe's," he informs me as he hands me my mobile. "You take this. Tell them where we're headed. I'll try and sort this." I ruffle up my nose, taking the phone and awkwardly putting it to my ear, trying hard to forget what he just told me. I tell the people on the phone to redirect the ambulance to my own house. They're saying not to move Chloe.

"Have to. It's not safe here. At this rate it'll be two of us that need an ambulance. We're trying our hardest to get out. Might not happen."

"I am the Grand High Vampire, Vladimir Dracula, and I order you to stand back and let these mortals pass!" I hear Vlad shout with a fairly feeble voice considering the obvious intention to sound powerful. I roll my eyes and split my attention between Vlad and the people on the phone who are going through all of the stuff I should be doing for Chloe, like pressing a tourniquet to her neck. To my amazement the crowd part and let us pass. In my hurry to get the hell out I drop the phone. It shatters into its many parts. I can feel Vlad running one pace behind me as we leg it out of the castle grounds and down the hill.

"I think I'm going to faint!" he exhales, and then honours his words, misses a step and falls. There's no time to see if he's okay. I push myself onwards, fast down the hill. I can hear a siren in the distance. Please say it is Chloe's.

By the time I make it to the bottom of the hill and to my house the siren splits loudly into the air. Blue flickers across the street and the ambulance keels around the corner. I ring our doorbell as it comes to a stop outside the house. Two paramedics run out with a stretcher and lift Chloe from my arms.

"What's going on?!" I hear Dad's voice reach me. My whole family is out here. I step backwards, drops of Chloe's blood dripping silently from my hand onto the pavement.

Time skips and lurches. I blink. Several minutes have passed. The ambulance is leaving. I think Mam is in there. Dad comes up to me and asks, "What happened!?" like he's already asked once and doesn't appreciate my lack of response. I lick my lips and shake my head, forehead furrowing.

"I never told her to come," I hear myself say. The world flicks around me, my eyes playing tricks. "And if, and if she hadn't it would be me. Or worse still; cold and empty on a flagstone floor."

"What's he talking about?" Paul says, tugging on Dad's sleeve. "Let's get going, forget the freak."

"Are you alright Son, are you hurt?"

"Fine," I say, snapping back into my head. Everything is clear after a muddy fifteen minutes. The night is cold and crisp.

"You can tell us about it on the way to the hospital then."

"I have to…" I loosely gesture over my shoulder, swallowing down. "The dead boy. He fell. I should go see if he's okay…"

"Dead boy? Robin, this is a bad time to have one of your 'moments'. Just get in the van." I shake my head. Another drop of blood drips from my fingertips.

"Come on Dad! Chloe's really badly hurt and freak boy here is sapping all of our attention. Let's get going!"

Dad gives in and follows Paul to the campervan. Ian hangs back near me, smouldering.

"That's our little sister! You are the most self-centred, uncaring little freak in the world. I know you, Robin. Playing your stupid little games. You sucked Chloe in. Put her in danger; sneaking out of the house after dusk."

"I never asked her to come." The camper van's engine roars into life.

"Chloe _cares_, that's the difference between you and her." A long blow on the horn tears into our scene. Ian looks towards it and then quickly back to me, blackness in his features. "Go on then, run along to wherever it is you'd rather be. To whoever it is that's more important than your little sister."

"You have _no idea_!" I shout at his back as he paces across the driveway to the van. "No idea!" my voice is lost under the sound of the door slamming shut.

_Thank you to those who have reviewed. You are very lovely. The next chapter will be up in a matter of days. _


	11. Naughty Puppy

_Apologies for the long gap between this update and the last. Christmas and New Year happened and it was very distracting. I'm not entirely back to normal yet, but I have finally got back on the computer so I thought it was best to get this up asap. _

11. Naughty Puppy.

There is no one on the path up to the castle. The dead boy is gone. Maybe I dreamt the whole thing. I don't know. Things have twisted up. Chloe's blood is sticky on my hand, and someone needs to pay. Nothing else matters anymore. I have to get the story, and then break some deserving teeth.

The door is ajar and out of it comes a rustle of sound. I slip in and stick to the shadows, silent and observant. The vampires are circled around the long-haired man, penning him in. On the throne beyond sits Ingrid, languid and arrogant. Vlad is sprawled out at her feet, just this moment now stirring and re-entering the waking world. He groans and puts a hand to his head, sitting up and asking what's happened. "Where's Robin and Chloe?" All eyes set on him, giving the long-haired guy a chance to do a runner. I see him smile and then with a flourish of his cape he is gone. The vampires don't seem to care much, they are all too watchful on Vlad.

"Welcome back, brother," says Ingrid with a phoney sickly-sweet voice.

"Was that Dad? How did he get out of that UV cage?"

"What?" she asks, but seems to realise what Vlad meant almost right away. "Oh that. The batteries ran out, unfortunately." Vlad's attention is darting and erratic. His eyes rove the room and all those vampires staring up at him. Ingrid flicks her wrist, bored by the angle of their conversation. "What I really want to know is why you're suddenly mobile. Dad's been prodding you in the hope of some reaction for three years. Now all of a sudden you're re-animated. What was it; the sound of the Branagh's panicked, desperate, pathetic, Walian tongue pulled you from your slumber? You're obsessed. I'd say it's not healthy, but somewhat ironically it seems the opposite."

I'm feeling slightly freaked out right now. Vlad isn't listening to her at all; his attention is being absorbed by the crowd of vampires.

"Where did all these guys come from?"

"The half-fangs? Me, and then each other."

He swoops his gawk back to Ingrid. "You bit all these people?!"

"Like I said, some created others. Most of them were sired by me, yes. My little army," she says proudly. Vlad gets up onto his feet, fists in balls and arms tense. "How could you do such a thing!? I recognise some of these people! Mostly from the rugby team!"

"It's what we vampires do, dear brother."

He presses his lips together and shakes his head, exhaling angrily through his nose. "This is all wrong," I just about hear him mutter before he glares towards Ingrid once again. "How long was I out? Robin and Chloe look so different."

"A little less than three years. It's been a lot of fun. Back like the good old days before you were squeezed out into this world."

He mouths 'three years!', clearly finding it hard to come to terms with.

"Don't look so surprised. Though the task seems simple, sending away those vampires and then wiping the breathers' memory took a lot out of you. Imagine how many years you'll spend in a coma after you manage to do something _really _challenging," she scoffs, crossing her arms and raising her chin. "You'll be the first Grand High Vampire who needs to take a ten year nap after every minor political decision."

While my head wraps around these words, there is a ripple that spreads among the vampires. I'm just chugging through the idea that Vlad wiped my memory, so I don't notice a slow switch of attention until it's nearly too late. There's twenty pairs of gold eyes turned my way. Twenty pairs of salivating canines leading twenty New-Rave vampires one step after another in my direction. I press my back up against the wall, holding my breath like that might save me some way or how.

"Oi! Pawns! He's mine! Scarper!" yells Ingrid, clicking her fingers. After a wavering pause they all scatter, fading back into the shadows. I let a small sigh of relief slip from my mouth and relax a little.

"Now you're awake, Vladdy, you can tell me why you saw fit to protect all these pathetic stupid breathers, but failed to protect one of your own." Vlad flicks his attention from me, back to Ingrid, who seems to be totally indifferent to my presence. At least for now.

"What?"

"Will," she says simply but gets only a blank look in reply. "WILL! You don't even remember!"

"Of course I remember, yes. I tried, Ingrid. No one was listening to me. I hoped that we could sort out a pax amicably," Vlad explains roughly, tiredness very obvious in his features. Ingrid fumes quietly, gripping the arms of her throne and throwing Vlad a look of daggers.

"Not until after Will was killed. Before then you were ducking in the shadows, cowardly and pathetic. You always claimed that you were compassionate, brimming with human qualities. Well when it came to the crunch you were all vampire, Vladdy. Your human friend over there was game for stopping it all before anyone got too hurt. But you shrugged him off. And Will got shot. It wasn't until then that you made your lame attempts to call peace. Well too little too late, brother."

"I did what I did for you, Ingrid," he says with measured tones, very serious and straight. "That slayer was holding a stake up to you, and Van Helsing was ready with his crossbow. I did it all for you! To save you!"

Ingrid's eyes are no longer black. They are a light slate-blue colour, glistening wet.

"You were too late. You would have been better off staying out of it until they killed me. Without Will I couldn't keep a handle on myself. My reflection won over. I am as good as dead."

"Don't say that."

"I will say what I like!" she shouts, eyes flashing back to black and teeth extending into long points.

"You're not the alpha around here anymore, Ingrid," comes a silky voice from the darkness. The long haired guy, Vlad's dad, steps into the light, a crown made of bones in his hands. "You may well have won rank over me, but you did so deceitfully. Technically that makes Vladimir the alpha. And now he is back, you must bow down to his rank."

"Screw the traditions. I'm top dog and I say heel!" the room quivers and shakes. I press my lips together and hope they've forgotten me. "You! Mortal, approach me!" No such luck. I shake my head, fighting my own limbs. My legs take a step towards her against my will, following her command rather than mine. "Vlad protected you because he wanted to protect his little dream. His delusion that he is human, that he might be able to convince his people to revoke their heritage in order to conform to his insular way of seeing things." My head swims. I give in to her, letting myself be taken up towards the throne. So much for breaking deserving teeth. I've got no chance and I was a gull to ever think otherwise.

"Ingrid. Quit this," I hear Vlad's voice cut through the spell, but my limbs are not snapped out of their enchantment.

"Still trying to protect that dream are you, little brother? Time to let go. It took Will dying for me to be fully free. It will take Robin dying for you to get your freedom." I swallow down, chin raised, trying once more to fight this thing. Get her out of my head. It feels like every cell in my body is pushing hard against a soft wall, pushing it and bending it, but unable to break through. No use. I puff out through my nose, giving up. I become very vaguely aware of something going on, at the sidelines. Vlad and his dad are pow-wowing together, arguing something out with hushed voices while Ingrid has her complete attention on me. This is all very far away and vague, since I am being forced to give my undivided attention to Ingrid. The fact that I have noticed this little distraction means that Ingrid has too. She snaps her head towards her family and I am momentarily freed.

"If you've got something to say, why don't you say it to the whole class?" she snipes through clenched teeth. They dart their eyes between one another and Ingrid.

"Just put it on, sort this out," the man growls at his son, thrusting the crown of bones towards him. Ingrid raises a brow and a lip.

"Yes, do. I could do with three more years me-time."

"I'm not strong enough to handle it. I'm not a proper vampire. I haven't merged with my reflection or anything!" Vlad insists, pushing the crown away. He says something quieter, to himself. "I've got to the place I always wanted to be. But it's all wrong. It's a misshapen version."

I am edging away, one small step at a time towards the door. I'm not doing Chloe any good by sticking around here. It was dumb of me to come back. I'm too thick, too set on ideas when they flash into my head. I can't drop things that I want a hold of, even if it's hurting me. I was home free and then I went and walked right back into trouble.

"Well then let's go on down to the mirror and get you two merged then!"

"No, Dad. This how I want it to be."

"You do realise that almost the entire vampire population is in Romania right now fighting with the Slayers Guild because they think the Slayers have you captured."

"What?"

"Yes. And the Slayers think you are being protected by the very vampires who are at war with them. Your sister's pulled the wool over everyone's eyes."

A ruffle of confusion ripples across Vlad's forehead. I am maybe half way to the door now, keeping each step slow and slight. So far, so good. It's working. Ingrid's pouring all of her attention into her family.

"What's happened in that department? Why are you her bitch? How come you're going grey already? I don't get it," Vlad sighs, crossing his arms and throwing a look across to his Dad, who tuts and shakes his head.

"Your charming sister stole power from the blood mirror while I was trapped in the UV cage. It left me weaker. When the cage batteries finally ran out she challenged me to a hierarchal duel, which I had to accept or automatically loose my position. Of course she won, she stole a lot of my own power. To steal it back would break the oaths I took at my 21st birthday inauguration. Oaths she must take a few years from now."

"You mean, she did what Boris did?" Vlad asks. "You don't look quite so ancient and haggard as then." He gets a heavy frown in return.

"That is because she took less than Boris. And I'm devilishly attractive, no matter my age," boasts Vlad's dad, checking out his nails and polishing them on the lapel of his shirt. "With no Grand High Vampire I've been unable to take any action against that fiend for a daughter. It is your duty, Vladimir, to ascend to the throne and sort out this mess."

Vlad considers this for a moment, eyes dropping to the floor. "I'm not merging with my reflection," he says firmly.

"Well then, innocent lives will continue to be lost in Romania. And the breather child will be your sister's dinner. The girl is actually talking sense. It might do you some good to see your only remaining connection to the human world perish." Three pairs of eyes flash towards me just as I get to a reasonable distance of the door. With one sharp short breath I push my legs into a run and scarper as fast as I can. An ear-splitting creak is followed by a crashing bang as the doors thud themselves shut. I slam into the wood and fall. With searching, scrambling hands I pull myself up to my feet, feeling for the latch.

"Naughty puppy," her voice licks in my ear, sending a jolt through me. I turn to see Ingrid standing right behind me. An iron grip grabs my collar and drags me across the room, up to the platform housing her throne. "Sit." She puts a hand to the crown of my head and pushes me down to my arse. After this she takes her throne and slouches there, resting one hand on my head, playfully tousling locks of my hair. "His head is so warm! Like a radiator. I'll be changing that shortly. But for now I like it." A small pause floats into the air. "Vladimir, this boy was once your best friend. You wiped his memory of the year you spent together. Why? To protect yourself from the truth of what you are."

"I did it for Robin and his family, and all the others who were there that evening. Stuff was getting too wild. They weren't safe here. I had to do something. What I did was not for me, but for them."

"Don't make me yak."

_Since I've been slack on updating I'll put the next chapter up now. _


	12. Eternal Sunshine

12. Eternal Sunshine.

A sour taste forms in my mouth as I sit here and listen to the bull that's coming from Vlad. I turn to look at him, batting Ingrid's hand from my head and getting to my feet. I glare with cold eyes, the fear that was rushing through every pore washing into resentment, anger, all of the things I was feeling for Ingrid before, re-directed at Vlad.

"So it _was_ you who wiped my memory. My family, the Van Helsings, Mr Renfield."

"Renfield? I forgot about that spider licker," I hear Ingrid say. "What a cretin. You'll pay for reminding me of him, breather." I'm too fired up to pay any attention to that little non-quip. All of my attention is on Vlad. "You're the reason for these past years of confusion, loneliness, self-deprecation?" I'm shaking I'm so pissed.

"You were like that before I met you, Robin," Vlad mutters with narrowed eyes. I crinkle up my nose, balling my fist. It slams into his face like a truck, sending cold blood showering. Ingrid squeals in delight and claps her hands. It looks like the older guy might do something, but Ingrid wags her finger at him and he slinks back, concerned eyes going to the fallen Vlad.

"What was that for?!"

"The past thirty-two months."

He gets to his feet a little woozily, hand going up to bleeding nose. I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek and then launch another hook at his face, putting my all into it. He drops. A streak of red blazes vibrantly against pale skin. I step towards him, looking down with a set expression. "And that was for the year that I did know you. Whoever you are, whatever you involved me in. Not that I remember any of it."

He sits up, cradling his nose and gawping at me. I lean further towards him, holding him tightly with my two dark eyes. "You say that you wiped my memory for my own good?"

"Yes! I certainly didn't do it for my own benefit!"

Standing up straight, I flick my eyes towards Ingrid. "Your sister is right. You wiped our memories to protect only yourself. You can't bring someone into your life and then blip them out of it at your will. Haven't you ever seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?"

"What?"

"When you decided to clear my memory of whatever the hell went on in my missing year did you not consider how screwed up that would leave me? How disconnected? There's a gaping void inside of me. I don't know what is meant to be there. I've been struggling with it for all these years. And now I'm finding some of this junk out. Like you're all vampires and some deal went on three years ago that triggered you to cast me aside, that triggered The Princess of Darkness here to sire a bunch of thaggish New-Rave minions." I put my head to the side and intake a steady lung of air. "Which then led to Stokely becoming a suburb of Hades, or something thereabouts. It all fits. Slots right into place."

My eyes wander around this room, this ancient old castle and all of the associations that come with it. I can picture myself three years and some months ago. A goth kid that didn't fit in, seeking other worlds to bury his sense of social inadequacy under. I must have been stoked to come across this place.

"When I was thirteen I was obsessed with all this stuff. I can see how enthusiastically I'd hook onto this whole deal. If you were going to pull a memory-wipe trick on me, that was the time to do it. When I first met you. But the cut off point was pretty shortly after that time. You made a choice and you chose to wrap me into your world."

Vlad takes a step closer to me, looking at me through imploring eyes.

"Yeah, but things were getting pretty bad at the end there, Robin. You don't remember, but it was getting really bad and I had to save you and your family from it."

"That maybe so. But wiping our memories was not the way to do it. It made us vulnerable."

Vlad blinks and thinks this over. Swallowing down, he nods and says, "I think I get what you're saying. It was wrong of me to take liberties with other people's heads. I should have given you a choice. You would have chosen to stay in the loop. And the loop would have slipped right over your head and become a noose, Robin."

"Don't give me that crap!" I shout. "It's my neck. It's up to me to make my own mistakes."

"Ok. I appreciate that. Give me a few days to recuperate and I can try to restore your memory for you," he says with a certain softness. Fixed and firm, I shake my head.

"I set out to get the straight. To fill this void. I don't need every last detail. I just need to roughly know where my head is. I have it straight. As straight as I need it. I don't feel so lost and vulnerable any more. I've got what I wanted from you. And now I'm going to say what I would have said if you had given me the choice to three years ago." I pause, flickering my eyes closed for a moment and steeling myself to pour out words from my mouth that I have been swallowing down year after year.

"I'm never going to be a part of your world. I am human. And I am realising what that means, what it means to be human. It's not all bad. And I can't be something I am not. So I'm going to walk away from this now. Put it behind me. Live out my life and be done with it."

His face smoothes over. A ghostly silence fills our space. Ingrid is grinning over the scene, enjoying the show much more than her brother. Their father sticks to the shadows, but I am all too aware that there are three sets of cold glinting eyes in this room and only one heartbeat. After a sort of 'moving on with life' sigh Vlad nods.

"You and I were once best mates. You belonged to a world I desperately wanted to be a part of, and vice versa. We constantly disappointed one another because we both took what we had for granted and wished for things that were beyond our reach. Neither of us appreciated what we had and we were constantly jealous of one another. It was a shallow relationship in which neither of us were truly happy." His fists are balled up tight. His whole body is stiff like board, like he's having trouble accepting the words that are falling out of his mouth. He presses his lips together, expression clearing into neutral. "You are right. It's time to put childish things aside. It is time to embrace what we really are. Deal with it and move on."

Ingrid rolls her eyes. "Finally he gets it through his thick skull. I could do with a brother I actually respect; someone on a level, not just those useless half-fangs."

"You have to give Dad his power back," Vlad says. "If you don't do it willingly then it'll have to be settled the old fashioned way."

Ingrid puckers her lips and considers this for a moment. "Well…I suppose it's a fair trade. My stolen powers in exchange for a half-decent sibling. But we'll be on equal terms. No tedious sexist comments about my gender. And I want your shake on it."

Vlad nods and extends a hand out to hers. She takes it and shakes it. "I want a second shake when you've merged with your other half."

"Excellent!" comes the older guy's voice. He steps into the light, a smile spreading over his face.

"I need your shake too, daddy-o," Ingrid snaps. She gets a raised brow in return.

"Go on dad, shake. If I really am the 'chosen one' and it's me to take the crown, then I'm going to stir things up a bit. This gender inequality is old fashioned and counter-productive. I'm sure it's one of our major failings as a species. Men and women are different, adapted to be suited to different things. That doesn't make one better than the other. Just different. Unless we push at the old ways we will stagnate. It's part of the problem with vampires. It's part of the reason things are going tits up for us. There's too much bureaucracy and too little common sense."

Very begrudgingly the old man shakes the hand of his daughter. "Very well. To the blood mirror then, to make Vladdy a fully fledged vampire, and for me to be reunited with my devilish good looks and unparalleled powers."

I'm not sure of where to go from here. I know where I want to go, and that is far away. What I'm not sure of is how. The three of them get to their feet and I take my chance to slip off. I'm half way across the room when Ingrid's voice shatters the silence.

"The mirror can wait a few more moments. Now's the time for Robin here to live out those last few minutes of his human life and be done with it, as he so eloquently put it." The three vampires group together, looking my way with hungry eyes.

"Oh be a sport and give the lad a thirty second head start," says the older man. "He's been so entertaining this evening. We owe him that much."

I part my lips, breath catching in my throat and eyes going wide.

"Now is the part where you run," prompts Vlad. Flustered I push my feet into action and do just that. Ingrid starts to countdown from thirty. I'm at the door by twenty. The latch is still stuck. I clatter it uselessly. Ten is called and I free the catch, creaking the door ajar just enough to slip through. My feet crunch on the parts of my previously dropped mobile phone. I'm not even at the gate when Vlad appears in front of me.

"One. Zero," comes Ingrid's voice through the gap in the door.

"Hard luck," he sneers, stepping towards me with golden eyes. There's something in them that seems soft; like maybe this is all an act and really he has no intention of harming me. Like this is all for my benefit somehow; that he's doing it for me, and harming me is the last thing on his mind. I can't be sure that it's not a vampire trick, some form of hypnosis.

It makes no odds. We are what we are, and maybe he's soft but he's still got two sharp fangs and that's enough for me. He's pulling some subtle hypnosis on me and I have to get out.

I feel around in my pocket for a novelty pencil, knowing it'll just snap, but there's nothing else I can do. My hand finds a small strange shape. I pull it out and see a clove of garlic. It must have peeled off from the main bulb earlier. I throw it at Vlad's face and it lands squarely between his two eyes. I don't know if it does anything particularly supernatural to him. There's no smoke or anything like that. But it does distract him long enough for me to get running again.

I'm hurtling down the road, my feet slapping hard against the tarmac. As I round the corner I see two bright eyes glaring at me. Not Vlad's. Car headlights. Bright, blinding, close. Great; I'm doing okay escaping from three evil vampires, only to run full pelt into a van. The breaks screech as I brace myself for the crunch. It doesn't happen.  
"Robin!" comes my father's voice. I open my eyes and see our campervan an inch away. The feeling that I am being watched from all angles creeps into me. Things stalk in the shadows. I shuffle to the side and throw the sliding door open, scrambling in and slamming the door shut behind me.

"Reverse. Get gone!" I shout, pressing my face to the window and searching for movement. I catch a pair of glinting eyes as the van reverses. They reflect the light back, dimming as the van speeds backwards. We make it out of the small road and Dad swings the van around, pulling it into our driveway.  
"Well whatever was all that about?" asks Dad, turning the lights off.

"Why are we stopping?" I ask.

"Because we're home, freak-boy," Paul says. I turn to look at the road to the castle, on edge and paranoid.

"Can't we go to the hospital? I want to see Chloe. Is she okay?" My attention is snapped back into the van, worried and inquisitive eyes darting between my brother and father.

"She's in a stable condition. We won't know more until the morning. The doctors, they said it was best to go home."

"Well, is Mam in the house then, or what?" I ask, looking at the dark windows and thinking about the fact that I might have invited those vampires into my house all those years ago, when I was in with their crowd. I'm clued up with the ways and wherefores of vampires, and I know that once they've had an invite they can come and go as they please.

"She wanted to stay with Chloe. She was going hysterical with worry for where you were. We tried calling your mobile but it was dead."

"Can we go to the hospital, please," I say through clenched teeth. Stuff is starting to build up. When you're immersed in a truly stressful situation, a life threatening position, you phase-out of it. It's a coping technique, probably. You don't let it get to you too much, not while you need your mind on the matter in hand. But now it's almost over I can feel the shakes coming on strong. I want to get out of this place so badly. "Just drive!" I shout when nothing happens. Dad grunts and puts the car into gear and I relax into my seat, melting into it.

_The final chapter will be put up sometime in the next week or so. Please review and let me know if you are enjoying the story. Thanks muchly. X _


	13. Straight Enough

13. Straight Enough.

They won't let me see my own sister.

"The visiting hours are over. You'll disturb the other patients. Please go home and get some sleep," says a nurse for the third time. I'm pacing up and down in a hallway. My family sit in a line of seats along it, all looking up at me. Mam gets to her feet, an apologetic look on her face as she says something to the nurse too quietly for me to hear. The nurse nods and plods off down the corridor, throwing me glare over her shoulder.

"Robin, come on, sit down. Are you alright?" She puts a hand on my shoulder. It feels like I'm standing on fragile glass. Fragile glass with a crack in it that keeps on getting bigger. I can't speak right now. The lump in my throat is choking me. "Look, I think it's best that we all go home together. We can't stay here. Chloe will still be here in the morning."

"I'm not leaving," I manage to say. Ian gets to his feet, striking a macho mean pose at me.

"Selfish as ever. You put her in this spot Robin, now deal with it. We need some sleep. Come on, let's leave him here if he's so adamant."

I glare at him through my fringe, too tired to say anything back.  
"Ian, don't be so nasty to your little brother. Whatever it is that has happened won't have been Robin's fault. The policeman who spoke to me earlier said that Chloe's the first person to come in with these wounds alive. Many have come in with the same thing, but they had no blood at all left in them. So I think we ought to be grateful to Robin."

I shake my head, going over to the wall and leaning against it. "No. Ian's right. I put Chloe where she is. It's my fault. I should never have involved her." My lower lip shakes and I stare at the floor through tired sad eyes.

"Robin," Mam says, stepping towards me. "What is it that you are involved in? What happened tonight?"

"It's over now." But I can't get the horrible feeling out of me. The feeling of being trapped in that coffin while Chloe was slowly dying. It's a horrible thing. My legs cave in and I sink to the floor. I can't help it. The whole time I've been keeping it together by distracting myself long enough so my brain hasn't got time to process any of it. But now my spell is broken and I can't stop the sobs from tearing out of me. I feel Mam sit beside me and wrap her arm around my shoulder. I bury my head into the nape of her neck and ride this thing out.

When I get out the other side I find myself sat on a chair, head leaning on Mam's shoulder. I lift it up and look around. Everyone else is gone. It's just me and her. She is sleeping and I guess I should too. I nudge her gently awake and suggest we get a taxi home. My watch reads 3:18am. Maybe a taxi is out of the question. We try anyway, slowly and distantly, both too tired to really function properly. There's a single taxi in the car park. The driver charges us through the roof, but it's okay. We don't mind.

I wake suddenly, one moment totally out of it, the next wide-eyed and tuned-in. Sunlight streams in my window. Every bone in my body aches and moans as I get to my feet and stretch out my limbs. I take a look out the window at the street below. Everything looks so bright in this crisp sunlight. I turn back to my room and its dark tranquillity, search through my drawers for something to wear. Most of my clothes are scattered around my floor, waiting to be washed. So I put on some old thing I hardly ever wear. A gift from an out of touch Auntie. I take a long look at myself in the mirror, wearing this tight fitting trendy green t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. I could do with a bath really. A blinking green light flashes beyond my reflection. My laptop is still on. I log in and see one message waiting for me.

_Robin, _

_Don't go up to the castle again. I've sent a letter to the Slayer Guild. I hope this might wake them up and they figure out what's actually going on. I'm not going back to Stokely. Time to move on. I've persuaded Mum to move out. We're back in Cheshire now, where I imagine we'll be staying at least while I finish up my A levels. _

_I'm sorry for being so weird on the phone. I was really freaked out. I am still worried about Vlad, but hopefully the Slayer Guild will work things out and do what is best for everybody. It's probably better not to concern ourselves with it. _

_Once again, sorry that I dragged you into things. Best just to drop it. I'm safe. You keep safe too. You're a good guy and I feel that maybe we could have been mates, if things had been different. Stay in touch, yeah?_

_All the best,_

_Jonathon VH. _

I smile and star the email to remind me to reply later. Right now I need some food, and then I'm going to see Chloe. Something distracts me, out the window. I peer down to the street. The hearse that was parked outside the castle is swerving in the road. Hooked onto the back is a trailer carrying what looks like ten or more Nu-Rave kids sheltering under black parasols. The hearse roof is overloaded with trunks and bags and all manner of strange possessions. Somehow I'm thinking I won't need to worry about the problem-neighbours up at the castle any longer. I make my way downstairs, following the scent of teacakes that drift up from the kitchen.

"Looks like the Count family are moving out." Mam says. "I just saw their car drive off all packed to the nines. And I swear it was Mr Renfield, the school caretaker, who was driving. He looked a little grimier than usual mind, so it could have been someone else."

"Did you see that trailer with all those disco-freaks in?" Paul laughs. "Looked like they had a dry-ice machine and everything, the way smoke was pouring out of it."

"Cranking out the Klaxons and brandishing their spent glow sticks. I wonder where the Count family picked those guys up from?" says Ian. I raise an eyebrow and sit at the table, hungrily digging into a teacake.

Ian suddenly looks uncomfortable. He nods his head at me and then tentatively says. "Sorry about snapping at you yesterday, bro. I was just stressed about Chloe, that's all."

"We all were. It's okay." I flash my eyes up to Mam and ask her what time we're going to the hospital.

"After breakfast. I'll just call the school and explain that you and Chloe won't be in today."

*

Chloe is pale and small looking in her bed. But she's awake and that's all that matters. The others have talked to her and gone off to get a snack, leaving us two alone.

"I'm sorry Chloe, for dragging you into that," I say guiltily.

"I dragged myself. And I'm glad I did, otherwise it would be you in a morgue right now."

"Yeah, I guess so. Cheers for that," I say with a small smile.

"So did you get your 'straight'?"

"Yeah I did. Well, not exactly straight. Kind of wonky, but straight enough." I reply softly.

"Want to fill me in?"

"Not really."

"Good, because I don't really want to know."

"No you don't." I swallow down and look at her looking at me. She gives me a ruffled expression.

"There's something different about you, Robin. I can't pin it…"

I think about it and then tug at my t-shirt. "New threads maybe. Well not new, just new on me."

"Oh yes! That's it. You're not wearing all black."

"The change might do me some good. It's about time I quit trying to hide myself in the shadows." She gives me a slanted look.

"Yes, but you don't have to merge right into being a trendy, normal person either. That doesn't suit you. You're different, individual and that's no bad thing."

I laugh and nod, clasping my hands together and leaning my elbows on my knees. "Too true. I can be different and individual and wear trendy gifts from crazy aunts sometimes. It's all good. There's no rules." She smiles back at me. "So what I'm going to do now is take a long hike up in the hills. Get some sun on my skin and wind in my hair." I get a raised brow and look of suspicion in reply.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my real brother?"

"There's no point fighting it any longer. I'm a Branagh. Okay, so I'm a slightly offbeat version. But I have Branagh blood in my veins and I wouldn't want it to be too different."

"Am I going to find you off doing work experience with Dad next week then?" I widen my eyes and shake my head.

"Hell no! There's nothing that's going to stop me from going to art school."

"Good," she nods. I sigh and stand up.  
"I'm glad you're okay. Even if most of your blood is no longer Branagh blood," I joke. "I really don't get how that works. Blood transfusions and that,"

"Well…" she says in a voice that tells me if I don't stop her now she'll lecture me about some ultra-boffin junk that I really won't understand. So I raise my hands and shake my head.

"No point in even trying, Chloe. I'm going to _art school_ after my A Levels. Not Cambridge." I get a smile and a nod. "But in the mean time I'm going to be cruising the streets of Stokely, looking for some skirt and trying my hardest to stay occupied in what can only be described as a..." Can't think of the right word, so I shake my head and go with; "a very boring place to grow up."

"Some skirt?"

"I _need _to get laid. It'll do me no good to go around with delicious virgin blood in my veins for too much longer." Chloe gives me a sideways look.

"Maybe you'll have better luck at art school. Even the girls in chess club think you're a weirdo." I pull a face and sigh. I've got another year and a half until A Levels are over. I've got to get laid before then. For my own safety.

End.

_Please leave me a review. I'm thinking of writing an epilogue, or maybe a second YD fanfic. Let me know if you have enjoyed reading this and if you'd be interested in reading any other YD stories by me. Thanks for your support and reviews. _


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